


Two

by lovelylaneboy



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Depression, Self Harm, Song fic, Suicide, song prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylaneboy/pseuds/lovelylaneboy
Summary: A suicidal girl talking about life. Ironic, isn't it?Based off of the unreleased song "Two" by Twenty One Pilots





	Two

**Author's Note:**

> Hello frens!
> 
> I'm gonna throw in this trigger warning in here because themes of:  
> \- self harm  
> \- depression  
> \- bullying  
> \- suicide  
> are present.
> 
> This is my first work on AO3 and I'm pretty excited! Enjoy :)

This is my story. It starts in a place that really isn't very good. I was starting to drown at this point in my life, late in my teen years. I started to slowly die, my death the opposite of short and sweet. After all, this is the story of an ending.

"I'm two"

My name is Two. No, not my nickname. My real name. Or, at least, that's what I've been told. Our parents tell us our names at birth, trusting us to just blindly accept it. But really, why do we listen? Why do _I_ listen?

"Be gone"

I've been told I'm a bit of a psycho. Maybe it's just the teasing that really gets to me, but it feels real when people joke that I'm crazy, so why shouldn't I be? Why shouldn't they think that? I mean, I guess that's what I get for pushing people away all the time. I like to be alone. Is that so wrong?

"You see"

Most people see in others what they want to see. For me, most people only see my façade. It's quite good, if you ask me. I pretend to be okay, just lonely. Some people think it's weird, hence the 'psycho' persona. On the inside, though, I am hurting. Honestly, I just wanted someone to take the time to know me. To at least try. And I thought the boy with fair hair did.

"Rain"

When people see a sign of a storm, they tend to run. I learned that lesson the hard way.

"I'm two"

Why did my mother and father name me Two? It's unique, sort of, but it's an everyday term. I was degraded at birth to a number, and nothing more. I'm a percentage, a minority, sometimes a majority, maybe, but I still remain a simply a number, only a face in a crowd that is comprised of people who are smarter, prettier, nicer, _better_.

"Be gone"

I once let someone, the boy with fair hair, come close to me. I let him see all of my weakness, all of my power, everything. And he accepted me for awhile for who I was, until the storms began.

"You see"

People didn't like me. I was weak. I had tried to commit suicide, and I had failed to do so. The entire school somehow found out, and the boy left me.

"Rain"

I cried so, so much. And they weren't those loud, ugly tears that attract attention and don't really mean much. No, these were of the silent, excruciatingly painful kind. Rivers of quiet, calm water came from my eyes, and oceans of blood from the fresh cuts on my wrists and legs poured forth unnoticed. I was dying, and no one seemed to care.

"I'm two"

There were two parts of me now. One that was happy, a mask for everyone to see. The other half, however, was dead. I had died. My body just hadn't caught up with my mind. I was two entirely different people, one that saw the light of day, and one that saw the dark corners of my room in the night.

"Be gone"

So I pushed everyone away. Especially the boy who once stole my heart, the boy with fair hair who kept me whole. He never was truly mine. But I loved him anyway.

"You see rain"

And once people saw the puffy red eyes and the scarred arms and legs, they turned away. They only saw the cuts, the tears. They saw a 'phase.' They saw 'emo.' They saw 'lonely.' They saw 'weak.' They never saw that I was dying, and that, yes, I needed help. I was not okay, but I could be saved.

"I'm two"

But did I deserve help? Did I deserve to be saved? No. Of course not. I needed to die.

"Be gone"

I needed to be forever gone. I planned my end, and I executed, this time with the intended outcome.

"You see rain"

Now, the only water that can wash me of my sins are the raindrops on my grave, and the tears of a boy with fair hair whom I once loved and who once loved me.


End file.
